Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Riley's Perspective

I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit.

What a fucking mistake—

"Riley."

I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn't even need to turn around to know who that desperate, gruff voice belonged to. I didn't move an inch, my body felt like it was on the verge of either collapsing right there, or running straight back to him.

How could I face him after what I did? After years spent not ever building up the courage to confess to anyone—and then Archer Wilson just walks into my life, all happy and persistent, and manages to get a public confession out of me. Fucking public.

I wanted to be mad at him—to feel the same, familiar, constant anger I always felt around him. But this time, I knew he didn't deserve that. He never did. How could I turn around and look him in the eye without breaking down and crying? And more importantly—what would he do if I did?

He didn't want me when I came crawling to him behind the auditorium, forcing an apology out of him. Or when I asked to talk on stage and he ignorantly dismissed me. Why the fuck was he here now?!

"What." I croaked, my back still facing him, my fists clenched so tight at my sides that my nails dug painfully into my palms. My voice came out weak, nowhere near as steady as I wanted it to be, and the attempt at confidence was almost embarrassing.

"That was really brave of you," His footsteps got closer, slow and careful, until I could feel him right behind me. I still didn't turn around. I couldn't. If I looked at him, I knew I'd break, "I didn't think you had it in you."

Fucking arrogant bastard—how could I not have, when seeing him in the stands made me almost smile without me realizing it? How could he be so fucking oblivious that I was just as affected as him—if not more?

"Why–" I paused to turn around, finally facing him. My gaze remained stuck to the ground, as I took in a deep breath to figure out what to say, "Why the hell wouldn't I?!" I sputtered out without meaning to, sounding almost pathetic.

"You're so fucking stupid, Archer!" I shoved him, harder than I meant to. He barely moved. I shoved him again, fists landing uselessly against his chest as the words kept spilling out of me before I could stop them. "How could you think I fucking hate you? I don't hate you. I hate myself, okay? I hate myself!"

"Riley—" I interrupted him, still not looking up as I punched his chest. He didn't move, or even try to stop me, "No! You don't get a say in this! How could you leave me so easily? You're so full of shit, I bet you never even liked me in the first place—"

"How the fuck could you say that, Riley?!" Archer finally snapped. He easily contained both of my hands with his, effectively stopping my weak punches. The patient look in his eyes turned into something else.

"I've liked you for months," he said, breathing heavier now. "Fuck—loved you for a year. I have loved you ever since you came here, Riley. And you're standing here acting like I didn't care?"

His jaw tightened, but he didn't let go of me. "You pushed me away until I finally left," he continued, his voice lower now, steadier but just as intense. "And the second I try to protect myself, you're furious that I didn't stay."

"Yes, I fucking am, okay?" I finally forced myself to look up at him instead of at his hands around my wrists, and the second our eyes met, whatever control I had left dissolved.

The dryness in my eyes burned, and then it was gone, replaced by tears I hadn't even realized were building. "I don't know when—or how—but I started to... I started to..."